My soul is roving, waiting for a flash of opportunity, to feel excited and passionate about something with true meaning. My soul has been like this for years, and I have just received the diagnosis in one word: restless.
My pastor took me out for lunch the other day and we were discussing life. I was describing to him my feelings about being a student and where my life was headed, etc. He broke the news gently to me when he said that he felt that I was the type of person to always feel restless. [Insert mental breakthrough here]. There it was! It wasn’t news that I was particularly happy to hear, but my condition had finally been named.
I am full of dreams. I am curious. I am adventurous. I am always wondering what’s next. And I am frequently met with disappointment. I desire my life to be a National Geographic moment, but instead I receive an assignment to read a book about somebody else’s enthralling life. What does that mean, when I reach for the sky and all I get back is a tiny snowflake? No wonder I feel restless; I am flailing and exhausting my efforts without taking time to acknowledge and receive the details that make up the bigger picture.
And I thought that I was good at sabbath.
It’s impossible to appreciate milk when you’re trying to chug the whole gallon because your body flat out rejects it. But think of taking the first sip of milk after eating, say... a christmas sugar cookie: appreciation for milk and its refreshing quality skyrockets and makes you want to come back for more.
I should tell my restlessness to take a back seat so that I can focus on the little things, including the mundane daily routine, and learn to appreciate them. My hope is that I will be surprised by meaning found in unexpected joys. Especially this Christmas season, I hope to be blindsided by the most unexpected miracle of all: Jesus, who is the flash of passion in the night sky of my soul. Take a breath with me now, and we can rest easy together.
It Came Upon A Midnight Clear by Ella Fitzgerald.
Merry Christmas!
.
